


A Kind of Fall

by BrazenMonkey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Extramarital Affairs, F/M, One True Pairing, Waiting, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrazenMonkey/pseuds/BrazenMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, your waiting shall be over, he had said. Now all she needs is patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is older, but it is still dear to me, for it was in fact the first fan fiction that I wrote over a longer duration of time. Started as a one-shot, then the idea wouldn't let me go!
> 
> My OTP to end all OTPs. Why did I ever stop writing about it?
> 
> The quotes at the beginning of each chapter are taking from the songs I would recommend you listen to while reading, mainly because they were the ones I listened to while writing.
> 
> Also exists on FFnet.

_Don't want to let you down_   
_But I am hell bound_   
_Though this is all for you_   
_Don't want to hide the truth_   
_**Imagine Dragons - Demons**_

* * *

 

The grand hall is crowded, much more filled than any other day of the year. The realm eternal celebrates the wedding of the youngest offspring of Odin and offers all its glory and glamour to those invited. Accompanied by the applaud of the guests, the newlywed couple finishes its first dance and they part for a short moment, only to find themselves new partners to dance and to chat.

She knows he's walking straight towards her. Her eyes glide down her silken dress, in the shade of freshly cut fir needles, inappropriately low-cut on her back, slits up to her thighs, yet it is long enough for the hem to touch the marble floor. Many have complimented her on it, the colour suited her, they said. But only he knows who she is wearing it for.

"May I ask the lady to do me the honour of a dance?" Loki asks gallantly, one hand behind his back, the other stretched out towards her.

"You may, my Prince," Darcy replies and as their hands touch, a searing heat sinks into her skin.

He takes her into his arms, his grip firm on her back, holding her by the hand as they spin to the sweet music of the orchestra.

"I was not entirely sure you would come," he says, his voice oddly detached.

Darcy looks over his shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes try to drill into her gaze. "How could I miss such a splendid celebration? After all, two of my closest friends are now happily married." She sounds far more bitter than she allows herself as she answers his glance. "I congratulate you and Sif on your happy union."

His Adam's apple dances in his throat and his arched brows furrow. His eyes dart to the left and to the right and he lowers his voice as he says: "You know I did not choose this. Nor did she."

Darcy swallows and her steps change from light to heavy. "But you did not oppose, either. And why would you, after all? Sif longs for the one brother who happens to be taken and instead gets the other who, too, is going to be a king one day. And you have found yourself a strong, beautiful queen." she hisses.

Her words aim to hurt and do not miss their target. His temples twitch at her words and his hand clutches hers tightly. Without a warning he draws her closer to his chest and the hand on her back secures her in his arms. "You know neither Sif nor I wanted this. And you out of all should know where my heart truly lies."

They are now dancing closer to the slowing rhythm of the music and Darcy has to stretch her neck to look into his eyes. But she wouldn't want to look any other way.

"And now?" she whispers brokenly. "What am I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to find comfort in your avowal of love? To be relieved because I know you are trapped in a political marriage with someone who doesn't want you? To know you are lost to me for all eternity?" Tears find their way out of her eyes and she angrily lowers her gaze. She doesn't want him to see her cry, to see her weep for him.

He presses his head against hers, his cheek resting against her temple and his lips streak the shell of her ear and for one moment, there is no-one else in the room but them. "Don't you ever again think that I am lost to you. Do you hear me?" His tone is full of wrath and Darcy knows he is not angry with her but with his fate that he has to accept. "I am yours as much as you are mine, no matter who might be by my side. I will always want you." His words are delicious, soothing the bitter sting of jealousy and rejection she has felt.

But it is not enough. "I don't want to be your mistress, your affair, whatever. I don't want stolen looks, hidden kisses. Holding your hand should not be forbidden nor should I have to hide how much I burn for you." She pulls back her head and her sad eyes lock with his.

Loki shakes his head. "I know you don't. And I would never ask you to." But in his look, she can see he desperately wants to.

"I would wait for you until the end of days, to be your beloved. I want you fully, truly, utterly. And I know I cannot have it that way." With a heavy heart, she lets go of his hands and frees herself from his grasp. His hands follow her like a magnet follows another and sorrow deeply sinks into his traits. "There will never be anyone else for me until the very day of my death. But as long as you are bound to her, we cannot be."

With these words, Darcy turns around and rushes to the door of the hall, the sound of the rustling fabric of her gown her only company.

* * *

The next day a present is sent to her, no sender is noted on the package. With wonder, Darcy takes it out of the hand of the messenger and inside the safe walls of her home, she unwraps the paper the box is folded in. Because of the shimmering golden light the gift emits, she knows exactly what has been sent to her. One of Iðunn's apples, the gift of immortality, gently placed on an emerald cushion, in the same shade of her dress of last night. A little note is placed inside the box, next to the shimmery fruit and her heart skips a beat when she recognizes the elegant handwriting.

_To make sure you will still be there when the end of days has come.  
One day, your waiting shall be over._

No signature is needed for Darcy knows who has sent her this. She presses the note to her heart and takes a deep breath. _One day, your waiting shall be over_. She can hardly wait for this day to come.

* * *

"So, you basically have no idea who might have send this? No message, no-one signed it?"

It is hard to avoid Jane's glare as Darcy packs another book into the moving box at her feet.

Nervously, she gnaws at her bottom lip. "Nope, no signature." She chirps with false honesty. As good as Jane may be at astrophysics, she is even better at spotting a lie which forces Darcy to stick to the truth as closely as possible – and there had been no signature, indeed.

Jane lets out a huff and proceed to close another box with a long stripe of tape.

"Did you eat it already?"

Darcy replies with a shake of her head and points to an elegantly wrapped box that is still sitting on the shelf atop her bed where the precious fruit still waits. She lifts her head to answer Jane's gaze. "I was kind of wondering whether, well, I mean, since I won't be the only one to join the immortality club soon..." This is way harder than planned, she thinks and looks at her friend, hoping for her to finish the sentence.

A kind smiles tugs at Jane's lips. "You want us to partake the fruit together?"

Again, Darcy's teeth tend to her lip. "Well... yeah. I mean, I never ate an alien power fruit and I don't even know what is going to happen and I just don't want to freak out all by myself..."

Jane's smile widens at Darcy's clumsy words. "I guess that will be possible." She winks at her and again it seems to Darcy like Jane is somehow the older sister she never had – annoying as hell sometimes but always the only one to go that far with her, even if it includes becoming immortal.

With a sigh, Jane starts to empty Darcy's vast collection of shelves chuck full of books.

"And you are sure you want to take all that with you? It's not like there are no books in Asgard!"

Darcy nods. "Yeah, I can't leave them." A little grin spreads across her face. "And I need something to kill time while are going to be occupied and doing a Kate Middleton job in the everlasting realm!"

"Eternal. Eternal realm." Jane corrects with a frown.

"Whatever."

"And even though my 'job' may be very stressing and fulfilling, I will still find time for you." The astrophysicist adds with a tender smile. "Promise!"

Darcy chuckles. "Yeah, there might be something else that will be quite 'fulfilling' after your wedding, if you get my drift."

The cherry colour that spreads across Jane's face is enough of a response.

To Darcy's great surprise, Jane doesn't change the subject as she is wont to do whenever Darcy teases her about her upcoming marriage.

She gently places the collection of poems by Emily Dickinson in the already stuffed box and sighs. "I really miss him." There is a sadness in Jane's voice that makes Darcy want to shut her big trap and take back what she had said before.

"You'll see him soon. And then you're going to have a whole eternity to be annoyed by him."

Jane nods thoughtfully. "I know. And I also know how silly it sounds, given that it is only days until I will see him again. But still... It has only been weeks and – I just miss him, you know?"

A knot forms in Darcy's throat that makes it hard to swallow. _Yeah, I know,_ she thinks and for a tiny second, her mind drifts off to light green eyes, elegant hands and a pair of thin lips parting to reveal a grin that would always render her silent.

Luckily, Jane doesn't seem to notice. She sighs and a silly laugh escapes her mouth. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm turning into one of those women!"

Her voice pulls Darcy out of her musing and she manages to produce a half-hearted chiding smile. "You are forgiven."

* * *


	2. Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might be able to tell, the chapter length varies from usual chapter length to shortcut-ish length, I hope you do not mind!

_So one last touch and then you'll go_  
 _And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more_  
 _But it was vile, and it was cheap_  
 _And you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me_  
 **Death Cab For Cutie - Tiny Vessels**

* * *

 

The silence is deafening and almost sickeningly loud. The sound of skin gliding against skin and heavy breathing mingles with the scent of warm bodies. He does not dare look into her eyes. Avoiding her gaze and keeping his skin from brushing hers more than necessary help him to pull it through.

The second he is finished, he pushes off of her, softly but quickly, almost hurried. No more contact than needed. He pushes his legs off the bed and buries his head in his hands. This is so wrong it hurts. And he knows she has felt the same way. He does not need to see her face to know she has felt the same he did – nothing.

Again, the silence. Not a word uttered between the two. And then he hears the soft sobs of the woman in the bed.

Loki's head turns to his wife and his chest tightens painfully as he sees the tears stream down Sif's face.

"I am so sorry..." she whispers and her shaking hands brush over her cheeks. The duvet of the bed is already tugged in safely beneath her arms and covers her naked form from his view.

Loki is muted by her tears. What could he possibly say? He feels like he has violated her, even though it was her idea. To try, to forget. But it doesn't work. And even worse, he cannot shake the feeling he cheated on the one he really loves.

"So am I." He replies and even though the words feel so empty on his tongue, he means them. That he would not be happy, he had known. But to see Sif, the fierce woman and warrior, forced to shed tears over her situation, hurts him far more than he had suspected.

Sif sniffles surprisingly calm and he can feel her strong eyes on his back, burning into his skin.

"There is no need for you to apologize. Deep down, we both knew. I can't make you love nor can I force myself to love you."

The sentence is bitter like venom and yet it is the utter truth.

"This is nothing you deserve." Loki says while his eyes search hers. It is true, he does not love her, nor will he ever be able to. But that doesn't mean he wants to see her so broken. Their relationship, if not based on love, should at least be based on respect.

Sif manages to produce a sad smile. "Nobody deserves this. And I know I am not the only one deprived of the one you want."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. How does she know? He wants to deny and to play dumb. But the lies that come so easily to him are nowhere to be found. And given their situation, the least he can offer her is honesty.

Sif takes his silence as a confirmation. Her slender fingers comb through her mane and her gaze is lost in the vacant air.

"And yet, _you_ can still hope."

Loki's head shoots up and he raises his eyebrows. "I can?"

"At least she loves you, too." Sadness is laced through her voice and adds an almost desperate note to her words.

A reply is stuck in his throat but he does not dare to utter it. Of course she is right. There is no need for any confirmation, he knows she wanted Thor all along. Desperately. And to see him happily married to someone else goes far deeper than everything else.

He cannot help the pang in his chest, how the sympathy takes hold of him. He turns around again and his eyes search hers. What could he possibly say to comfort her? Pity will be the last thing she wants to hear.

Sif swallows and averts her eyes. Her hands clutch at the linen cloth and she gets up, her body wrapped in the thin sheet.

"I need some air." She says in an apologizing tone. Then she gathers her clothes from the floor, moves past Loki's unmoving form and out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment is highly appreciated, especially constructive criticism and your honest opinion!


	3. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really no fan of Kanye West but this song and especially its beat are downright awesome and exactly what I had in mind when writing this chapter.

_I'm not loving you, way I wanted to_  
See I wanna move, but can't escape from you  
So I keep it low, keep a secret code  
So everybody else don't have to know  
 **Kanye West – Love Lockdown**

* * *

 

One day, an heir to the throne is born.

The son of Thor Odinson and Jane, his wedded queen. A healthy, strapping baby boy with eyes like the water of a crystal lake and little dimples that would make men more grim than Hogun himself form a tender smile. The young offspring is warmly welcomed.

And the kingdom rejoices.

The celebration for the princeling gathers each and every citizen of Asgard that has ever taken any interest in the family of Odin, not only the whole court but also many visitors from other realms who come to pay their respect to the newborn who, one day, will rule the mighty realm. But right now, all that he rules are the hearts of every single one who takes a look at him.

Even his uncle Loki with his stern mind and his cool manner cannot help himself but softly caress the baby's rosy cheek as he sets his eyes on his nephew for the first time.

At his side, Sif kneads the thin fabric of her deep violet dress and clutches her fists atop her thighs. As the second royal couple, they have taken their usual place at the left of the thrones of the Allfather and the Allmother while Thor and Jane feed the hungry eyes of their visitors.

Her nervousness is infecting and somehow it even bothers Loki to see her so distraught. Unconsciously, he reaches for Sif's clutching fists and pulls away one of them. He gives her hand a soft squeeze and shoots her a warm glance. He knows this is nothing she can easily bear. Her eyes dart to their hands, then back to his face and she answers with a tender smile.

While Thor continues to proudly present his newborn son to the gathered crowd, ignoring Jane's admonishing hisses and her muttered words of concern, Loki's eyes scan the familiar faces of the court. The happy smiles, the whistles, the cheering for his nephew form a picture of gaiety and celebration and seeing Frigga smile with such an amount of love is something that has always warmed his cold heart.

A sudden movement catches his attention. Behind the mass of people, a figure is moving, almost hurried, not quite running and yet fast enough to disappear through the door of the Grand Hall out into the corridors of the palace. A woman, long dark masses of brown hair and a soft body shape. _Darcy,_ he thinks and his throat clenches with sudden worry. Loki sits up and he realizes he has still been holding Sif's hand.

"Excuse me..." He mutters under his breath to the warrior goddess and darts his way through the crowd, down the pedestal and hurries to catch up with Darcy.

He finds her in one of the sideways, her back turned to his while her shoulders are hunched and the noises she makes clench his heart. She sobs.

"Darcy..." he whispers and his hand stretches out to touch her shoulder.

She whirls around, her eyes puffy, her lips trembling, yet her gaze is burning with hot white anger.

"What?!" she hisses and moves away from his hand.

"What is wrong?" he asks. But as soon as the words have left his mouth, he knows it is the wrong question to ask.

The red lines of her lips turn from a shaking mess to a coiled band around her gritted teeth.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Her voice drips with contempt.

Loki frowns. Why would he not? Apparently she has read the confusion in his face and her eyes move down his body and focus on his hand. And then the pieces click into place.

"Is this about Sif?" He inquires and his brows furrow with anger. _That is what this is all about?_

"It is about the fact that you obviously have nothing to complain about! Apparently, you have gotten used to your situation, given that originally, you felt nothing for her!" Her shouts echo from the walls and she nervously glances down the hallway. They cannot risk to be heard.

She swallows and closes her eyes for one second too long. "I knew it would take time. I just had hoped you wouldn't end up... changing your mind." Her eyes open again and the corner of her mouth tug down.

His fingernails dig into the palm of his hands while he balls his fists. Not only are her accusations false but they also hurt. How could she ever think that?

"Do you really think that? That I have changed my mind?" Loki rolls his eyes. This is ridiculous. "I tried to comfort her. She has to watch Thor be happy with Jane and now she is even forced to smile and rejoice in the fact that they have a child!"

"And what do you think I am doing? You want to comfort her? Her? How long until it is _me_ watching _you_ with your child?"

The realisation hits him with the force of a swing with Mjölnir. And the shame chokes him, to know that she is so close to the truth.

Again, tears drip from her cheeks and now she doesn't even try to hide it.

He wants to touch her, to hold her, to make her forget but something in her gaze keeps him from moving.

"I am here, just like I promised. I am still waiting, until the end of days, remember?" Darcy's voice cracks and her fingers scratch the thin skin beneath her eyes, wiping away the salty trail. "I was just hoping you would do the same."

Loki's body hits hers with untamed ferocity and his hands grip her face almost too roughly. Shaking fingers clasp the collar of his shirt and she pulls herself up his body, her nose brushing up his cheek to rest next to his. Suddenly he is aware of how close she is to him, after such a long time of abstinence. His index finger brushes over her lashes and she closes her eyes, leaning into his touch.

For a moment, neither of them utters a word. It is Loki who speaks first, his voice grave and almost angry.

"Do not ever make the mistake to doubt either me or my word."

This odd and almost forgotten proximity and the scent of her warm skin and hair are as intoxicating as the stare of her beautiful eyes. It is like staring into the branches of Yggdrasil, into the fathomless depth of everything.

He decides to break his unspoken promise of not giving in to her.

The first times their lips touch after such a long time feels like something igniting in his chest, a warmth that spreads from his lips to his limbs und curls back to gather and boil inside his stomach. She is his lifeline, his own personal poison and antidote in one person. The difference between her and Sif is so striking it hurts. And the fact that he is able to draw this comparisons hurts even more.

Her lush lips part under his firm movements and the sigh that vibrates in her throat sends him over the edge of reason.

Her. Her. Only her. No-one else until the very end, until Ragnarök and beyond. It takes all his willpower to pull his mouth from hers.

The soft sound of their lips parting sends shivers over her bare arms and Loki has to fight the urge to press his lips onto every single bump. The tips of her fingers, still clinging to his collar, brush against his neck and he can feel his pulse thrumming wildly beneath the delicate skin.

They lean backwards and find rest on the sturdy wall, Darcy's curves pressing into the lanky lines of his body. She is panting heavily and Loki knows this is wrong but all he wants to do is take her right here and right now. And what difference would it make? In the end, she is his.

But it is the utter fear in her eyes that keeps him from doing so. Has he been too aggressive? Is she hurt? "What is wrong?"

She swallows deeply and, still clinging to his collar like the desperate lover she is, searches Loki's bluish green eyes. "I love you" she whispers in a broken, hushed tone.

Three words and they trigger every possible sensation inside his body. He kisses her again, to wipe away the sadness from her voice, his hands roaming her body and pulling at her thighs until she gives in and allows him to bring her shaking legs around his narrow hips.

A familiar scent hits him and he needs to oppress a chuckle. How long has she been among the Aesir, for years, maybe a decade? And she still uses the same perfume she used when he had met her.

His lips leave hers to tend to her neck, planting open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he crosses. Darcy's shivering fingers lace through his fine hair, gripping him hard.

"Loki..."

He growls and one of his hands slips from her thigh underneath the thin fabric of her dress, searching its way upwards towards the inviting heat. His hands disappears in between her legs and he smiles into her skin as she almost jumps in his arms at his touch.

"Loki...!" she gasps and her grip steadies.

How he has missed her! Her voice, her smell, her skin, her touch, her hair, each and every single piece of her that makes up a mosaic of beauty worth praying to. He stretches out his fingers to touch her more determinedly, feeling her quiver beneath his fingertips.

"Loki!"

One of her delicate hands grips his wrist and pulls his hand from in between her legs and pins it to his chest. He cocks his head to face her, incredulous, surprised.

In her eyes, he can see she wants to, maybe even more than he does. But he knows that she does not want it this way.

"I can't do this." She whispers sadly.

All he can do is sigh and let go of her, reluctantly. No, she doesn't want this and for the same reason she would never indulge in an affair with him. On the one hand, he admires her for her sense of self-worth.

On the other hand, right now, he loathes it more than anything else.

Annoyed and somehow tired, Loki buries his head in her neck and slowly puts her back down until he feels her feet graze the floor again. Her hands are still woven through his hair and for one precious, delicious moment, they stay like this together, entwined, their heartbeats their only company.

Then, Loki raises his head and her grips loosens until it is only a feathery touch to his sharp jaw. A gentle tug, Darcy bends her head, Loki leans forward and they share one last, bittersweet kiss.

"You need to go back..." she whispers throatily.

Sadly, she is right. Loki presses his lips to her forehead, deeply inhales her scent and then turns around without looking at her for one more time. He knows that if he turns around, he will never make it back to the court again.

His steps take him away, full of grace and determination. Darcy leans back against the wall, somehow a repetition of what happened a couple of moments before, and tries to smooth over her dress. But the shaking of her hands keeps her from succeeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment is highly appreciated, especially constructive criticism and your honest opinion!


	4. Closely

_Turn down the lights, turn down the bed_   
_Turn down these voices inside my head_   
_Lay down with me, tell me no lies, just hold me closely_   
**_Adele – I Can't Make You Love Me_   
**

* * *

 

Time passes and after a while, Darcy can walk the palace again without that nervous scratch in the back of her throat, that mixture of guilt, shame and longing.

And finally, she can go and see Jane and her adorable baby boy again. Usually, Darcy would have never considered herself a child person, let alone someone who could coo at the sight of an infant. But this little sucker? Too cute to be true. And he totally smells like a cuddly, fluffy blanket.

She lifts him in her arms and swings him around, carefully, not to scare him, but as usual, baby thunder just smiles and is as easy and uncomplicated as his parents are.

"Can I keep him?" she sighs as she presses a kiss onto his smooth forehead.

"Let me think... no."

Darcy pouts and nudges his nose tenderly with hers. "Pretty please...?"

Jane chuckles and smoothes over her hair. "Believe me, you'd return him after one sleepless night."

"I hate it, when you're right." Unwillingly, Darcy puts him down and hands him over to his mother. Jane strokes over her little boy's fine down of hair and cradles him lovingly in her arms. If Darcy didn't know better, she'd think Jane was born to be a mother.

"So, what have I missed? Any news I need to hear? Any gossip?" Darcy asks as she stretches her sore arms.

"Not really." Jane shoots her a glance that is hard to sort out. "I talked to Loki yesterday."

It is too late to cover the twitch of her eyelid. Maybe Jane hasn't noticed. "Oh, okay. How is he doing?"

Jane shrugs and watches the little man in her arms drift off to sleep. "I don't know, he seemed kind of disturbed, like something was bugging him."

Darcy nods but says no word.

"He looked like he was mulling over something." Jane continues and Darcy can practically feel her friend's eyes moving from her son to her.

Darcy combs through her hair with her right hand and shrugs. "I guess that's just his usual look."

"Really? He was just so off. He seemed a little... lonely." Jane says, her tone too light to hide her agenda.

Now she doesn't even hide the blink of her eyes and her head snaps up. Her friend answers her gaze and for a second, neither of them says a word.

Then, Darcy scratches her eyebrow. "Could you have a lousier poker face?"

The astrophysicist manages to produce half a smile. "Hey, I tried."

"Not very well."

Again, silence fills up the space between them.

"How did you know?" She is just too curious not to ask. All along, she had thought they had been so careful.

Softly not to wake him, Jane puts her son in the cradle nearby and tip-toes back to the table. "At first it was just a hunch, a little bit of interpreting and adding two and two together." Jane sucks in a deep breath of air as if confessing a crime. "And then, I saw you two leave the grand hall – and I followed you..." Her voice changes its pitch to a higher sound that gives away her apparent bad consciousness.

Darcy eyebrows shoot up and masses of heat pulse through her cheeks. "You spied on us?"

Jane shamefully gnaws at her bottom lip. "I didn't stay the whole time, obviously, I had to get back. But I stayed long enough to hear a little bit of your fight."

The silence that follows the confession is heavy and almost pregnant with unasked questions. Darcy feels utterly exposed, caught in the act, red-handed and all the doubts and shame she had felt about their little secret encounter before now wash down on her.

After what feels like an eternity, Jane chooses to raise her voice again. "It was Loki who sent you the fruit, and you knew all along, didn't you?"

All Darcy can do is nod. She doesn't even dare look into her friend's eyes. She knows Jane has always had little pity and little sympathy for Loki despite Thor's best efforts to make them warm up to each other. But Darcy knows Jane well enough to know that it had been an endeavour doomed to fail.

Jane sighs again. "How long has this been going on? And how did it even start? And how were _you_ of all the people even capable of keeping something secret for such a long time?!"

Jane's try to cheer her up doesn't really succeed, yet it eases the tension in Darcy's chest. She doesn't sound mad, she thinks. Just surprised.

Darcy's fingers comb through her mane again and she lets out a huff.

"I kinda liked him from day one. You know, all tall, lean, dark, smart as hell, humour that borders inappropriateness,..." she counts and she can see in Jane's face how she tries to hide the shock.

"Yeah, I guess he might seem a little attractive -" the astrophysicist replies evasively. "I hope you don't mind me asking..."

Darcy rolls her eyes. "I guess we're already past that point."

Jane ignores her interjection. "...but still: How could you _fall_ for him?"

The corners of Darcy's lips tug upwards. "There is more than meets the eye, you know?"

Jane's makes a little click with the tongue. "Hard to imagine."

"Yeah, you keep on raining on my little love story parade. But Thor is not the shallow, dull and vain idiot he might appear to be. And Loki is not the self-absorbed cold-hearted maniac he pretends to be. At least not always."

* * *

" _Who do you think you are? You are_ nothing _!" His hand angrily cuts through the air like smashing a castle of sand. "Do you think I don't know how the other men stare at you? Want to woo you? And the way you banter and flirt with them, toy with them so shamelessly!"_

_His words hit her like a slap across the cheek._

" _And do not fool yourself. There is nothing special about you, nothing that would change anything. Nothing significant, nothing of wit or importance. Nothing that could capture my attention. And why should it?" His accompanying laugh is almost hurtful._

" _There are women throwing themselves at my feet, begging me, chanting, repeating my name over and over again. Women hundred times your beauty, far more enticing than you could ever be!"_

_She sobs now, a mess of puffy cheeks and ruffled hair. "Are you done now?" she cries._

_His shoulders drop unceremoniously like her question has taken all his force._

" _Yet here I am, in front of you, still a slave to you, a damned creature like you. Of all the things, it is you, my very own damnation, in my head, at night, at day, wherever I go. And I find myself unable not to think of you."_

_Darcy snivels and manages to produce an arrogant smirk. "Well, isn't that a sad story?"_

_Loki features falter and turn smooth. "It is. And, where is the true sadness in this tale?" He cocks his head, his gaze somewhere between surrender and acceptance. "I want it to never stop."_

_That is uncalled for. "Come again?" Darcy replies dumbstruck._

_But he does not answer. Without a warning, his hands capture her face and he presses his thin lips onto hers._

_This is not really the way she had imagined his little speech to end. And she is too dumbfounded to even react. As quickly as the kiss has started, is also ends._

" _I am sorry if my words have hurt you and left you bewildered." He says mildly. "But I am sure, you can do better." And with that, he pulls her back and finally she is able to show him how a real kiss works – at least for her. Lips, tongue, even teeth, all working together to create a whirl of sensations that make her heart race for its life._

_With a little plop, they part again and Loki stares into her eyes, without words, his pupils dilated, his lips pursed. Darcy swallows and feels the dried marks of tears on her cheek as she manages to produce a wonky smile while her gaze darts from his lips back to his eyes. "You're making no sense at all."_

_Loki gives her his signature smirk. "How the mighty have fallen."_

* * *

" _You happy now?" She has to break the silence. If there had ever been a moment her loud mouth was urging her to speak, it is now._

_Darcy's head is raised and lowered with every breath Loki takes. Her cheek, still hot and glowing, is pressed onto the planes of his pristine chest, one hand safely hidden beneath her body, the other one resting beside her face._

_Loki keeps staring at the ceiling, his head embellished by a halo of gently curled hair. He rests on his arm that is placed on the pillow, the other one cages the woman on his chest in his embrace._

_Her words seemingly leave him untouched and she does not dare turn her head to look into his eyes. Lord, or maybe someone else, knows what she will find in them. What would be the worst? Disdain? Regret? Pity?_

" _Are you?" he asks toneless, his breath stroking her hair._

_Darcy swallows and feels the pulse of it against his skin. "It's kinda hard to process. I mean, you're not really the gentleman type. You can't tell a girl she is insignificant, worthless and pretty much a whore and then kiss her like it was your dying day and take her like she has never ever been taken before." She awkwardly clears her throat. "Several times."_

_Again, no eye contact. But she can feel his face move and deep down she hopes, it is to form a smile._

" _And then you kinda said you didn't want me to leave ever again. And who knows if you mean that! Sincerity doesn't really come with your job title, right?"_

_Now she turns her head and rests her chin on his chest, staring right into his face._

" _I meant what I said." He answers solemnly._

 _She smiles a little smile and decides to simply go for it._ See where it takes you.

" _I guess I'll just have to take your word, then."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment is highly appreciated, especially constructive criticism and your honest opinion!


	5. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In "Walk The Line", Johnny Cash is asked that if he was mortally wounded, lying one the ground with only so much breath left as to sing one last song - which one would he sing?  
> He chose Folsom Prison Blues, if i remember correctly. For me, it is The Antlers - Two. Such a piece of beauty!

_Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving_

**Rihanna feat. Mikky Ekko - Stay**

* * *

_Well no one's gonna fix it for us, no one can_

_You say that no one's gonna listen, no one understands_

_So there's no open doors, and there's no way to get through,_

_there's no other witnesses, just us two_

**The Antlers – Two**

* * *

 

The darkness cloaks her and the soft gush of the wind successfully conceals the light sound of her steps.

Around the corner, up the stairs, through the back door of the passage – wait, is there someone?

Darcy bends her head, her eyes darting to and fro. But it is just the wind, no-one else to be seen. And it makes sense. The guards are gone and grieve for their departed King as well.

On tip-toes, she sneaks into the corridor she knows by heart, turn the first corner, pass the window with the beautiful sight down into the waterfall, just a few steps-

She halts in front of the door with the silver-laced knob but her knuckles hesitate a few inches away from the wood. Will he be alone?

 _Loki_. She calls his name out in her head, hoping for her silent prayer to be heard.

In the brink of a second, the knob turns and a shadow opens the door, a tall figure with a face and hands as white as the moon, clothed in the traditional black attire of a son in mourning.

"You?" Loki inquires but Darcy pushes him out of the way and slips into the safety of his chamber. He wouldn't have answered if he hadn't been alone. Sif might be out in the grounds, or perhaps with Thor?

"I just needed to come!" she says as she turn to face the prince again. He looks terrible. His skin is almost ashy, dark circles beneath his jewel-toned eyes that miss the familiar spark.

Loki bends his head but remains silent.

Darcy pushes back the hood of her coat and sighs. "I am so so sorry, Loki..." she starts and moves towards him.

The god stays in place and crosses his arms. "We all knew that this day would come." He replies evasively.

"I know but that doesn't make it any easier. How are you doing? How is everyone?"

His eyes follow the pattern of the carpet beneath his feet, avoiding her gaze. "Mother is in grief and she will not be seen for the next few weeks. She needs time to cope-"

"As you all do." Darcy interrupts.

Loki ignores her interception. "- and Thor hides his mourning and prepares for the coronation. But that will not take place too soon – since Odin is now gone, the duty of crowning him has fallen to Frigga, and she refuses to leave her room."

Darcy moves closer to him and her hands cup his face. "And how are you? I hadn't seen you since the ritual and I just wanted to make sure you were fine."

Loki's hands cover hers but instead of holding on to her, he pushes her hands off of him and takes a step back. "There is no need for you to be concerned. I am fine." His tone turns from detachment to reproach. "And you know it is extremely risky for you to be seen here. Sif might return every second."

Darcy swallows the retort that waits on her tongue – _he has lost his father, be patient._

"Even if, I think she will understand that I wanted to pay my condolences..."

"There is no need for you to be here."

His tone cuts her off and a cold spreads in her stomach.

"I had hoped you'd be happy to see me."

Loki rolls his eyes. "What would make me happy is to avoid any further incident that would cause a mess. I really cannot deal with this right now."

Again, his tone. Darcy takes a deep breath and counts to ten in her head – anything to keep her from talking back. There is no use in arguing with him when he is like this.

She decides to change the subject. "And, what is going to happen now?"

Loki raises his brow. "What should happen?"

"Well, with you two."

"What is with me and Sif?"

She hates hearing him say her name. It makes her seem so much closer.

"I mean, is there still a need for you to stay together?" she snarls back at him.

He shifts his weight and crosses his arms. "As far as I recall, we are still married."

The thread that holds her patience, already thinned by his behaviour, snaps.

"For crying out loud, do I need to spell it out? Will you be divorced, now that Odin is dead?" she huffs angrily and her voice is coloured with annoyance.

"Did you listen to what I said? I don't intend to cause any further distress to my family. Including a separation from my wife."

Her brain processes his words. Her jaw almost drops. "Are you serious?"

"Woman, do I seem to be joking?" Loki answers, his voice but a hiss.

Her head drops and her gaze darts to the left as she mentally processes what he had just said.

"So, humour me, and explain it one more time: You are seriously intending to continue being married even though there is no obligation for you to be anymore? Not to mention the fact that after all this time you leave me hanging yet again?"

"In case it slipped your mind: My world does not revolve around you." He spits condescendingly.

Darcy laughs angrily. "Oh, you mean it is alright for me to bend to your every wish and will and to do everything you ask of me – but I can't expect you to return the freaking favour?"

The man across from her and scrunches up his nose in indignation. "I never forced you to do anything – as I remember, you came willingly and on your own free will."

"I gave up my fucking life for you! My friends, my family, my job, everything for you! And you don't even care, no, because in your tiny little mind, everyone just lives to serve you!"

She leaves him no time to respond as she starts pacing up and down in front of him. _This is a joke!_

"This is just – have you any idea what I gave up for you? And you don't even care! I wanted to love you, but you just wouldn't let me, would you? You were the one that kept pushing me away! You were too busy blaming everyone for every bad thing that ever happened to you!"

Her hands cut through the air as if wiping away any possible retorts he might present. But he is far from answering. Rage and disgust freeze his limbs and bind his tongue.

And she is far from done. "And then this wedding thing – 'Understand me, we were betrothed for ages – you know I have no choice'," her voice adapting his husky voice and the solemn tone, "And did I complain? NO! I waited for you, I freaking waited and then I get this gift from you and I'm thinking 'Maybe, maybe he is finally ready to let me in' – but no, all you have given me are another decades of waiting!"

The crack in her voice hinders her from going on and for a tiny second, she needs to catch her breath. Her eyes scoot up and down his face and his lack of motion triggers another flood of words. It feels too good to blow off all the steam that had built up inside her – and once her thoughts are released from their cage, there is no taking them back.

It is the first time in years his sight repels her. "Smartass are you, huh? Got one in your bed, one ready to be taken as soon as you're finished with her! And then that thing, back when Jane's baby was born and you almost screwed me right there in the hall!"

Her hands stroke over her hairline and push back the messy curls.

"At first I thought that could be a sign, that there was still a trace left in you that wanted me just as badly as I wanted you – but, who'd have known? No! That was just you taking what you want – as usual!"

All he can do is sneer. "I do not recall any objection from you."

"Like you would have given me a chance!"

Why would she twist every single thing he says? "This is what you are thinking? Are you really that shallow? Do you always need to be the victim?"

"This is rich coming from you! I would love to see how you felt in my position, how you felt when I was with someone else! Everybody knows how well you deal with competition!"

There, again. "Will you ever listen to a single word I say? I am not with her!"

Her huff is as incredulous as it is disdainful. "Do you think I am as stupid as you picture me? That I don't know you're screwing her? And don't you dare lie to me!"

The twitch in the corner of his mouth is enough to answer her question.

"And? Is she more fun? Better? Does she kiss you like I do? Does she hold you the way I always did when we were done? Do you make love to her like you used to do to me?" Tears mingle with sobs and the cracking of her voice tears her throat apart. All the walls inside crumble down and her tongue is still loaded with each and every reproach she has kept to herself, a trigger ready to be pulled. "Does she love you when you're blue? I did and I didn't care – and I thought that it meant something to you!"

Loki growls. "What do you expect of me? To cling to you in every moment that I have? To make myself ridiculously dependent on someone like you do? I would never be this pathetic."

The silence that follows is far worse than her screaming from before. And in that second, he realizes what he just said – and thus implied.

"Pathetic?"

"Darcy,..."

Her mouth is still slightly agape. "Pathetic is what you call me? After all this time, after all that I _did_ and sacrificed for you? This is what you think of me? This is what comes to your mind?"

Darcy straightens her posture. He can see it in her eyes. Something just broke. Her shoulders slouch and the tension that only seconds ago had taken hold of her seems to ease. But it is no tranquillity that floods her. It is resignation.

She stretches her chin in a proud gesture. "I guess then there is no reason for me to stay here any longer."

"Darcy..." Loki starts but her hand raises as if to cut him off.

"I hope you will find consolation with your wife. I hope she will make you _happy_."

Her tone of disdain cuts him like a knife.

She clears her throat with false confidence. "Our deal is off. I will never _bother_ you again." Her face is blank like an unwritten page.

Darcy swallows deeply, the lump of hot tears in her throat has to wait. He doesn't deserve to see her tears. He doesn't deserve to have anything from her. She won't give him anything anymore. He has already taken far too much.

She turns around and moves back to the door and almost waits for him to move, to stall her, to fight. But he doesn't.

Her hand closes around the knob and she looks over her shoulder at Loki as she pulls the door open. Why on earth doesn't he fight? His calm act makes her want to hurt him so badly that her pride swallows her dignity.

"I wish I had never loved you."

With that lowest blow possible, she closes the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment is highly appreciated, especially constructive criticism and your honest opinion!


	6. Lonely Alone

_I try to live alone_   
_But lonely is so lonely alone_   
_So human as I am_   
_I had to give up my defences_   
**Mika - Any Other World**

* * *

I will die a warrior's death, she had once said. Who would have known that her words would be so predicting?

The message of the princess Sif succumbing to her deadly wounds reaches the kingdom like one dark wave of horror and shock. The beloved princess, loyal friend to the newly ascended king, worthy wife of Loki – eradicated by something as trivial as a swipe with a sword.

But it is true.

And the news reach each and every one, including Darcy.

* * *

The ceremony is not much different from the one they held when Odin passed away, and yet it is totally changed. The grief might be altered but equally strong. While the people of Asgard had sent off their departed king as an old man to the eternal fields of Valhalla, they now face the imminent threat of death in the shape of a lively young woman, too fierce and too tough to die.

As much as the bad conscience nags at her for even considering this, but Darcy would have thought that this day would bring her as much relief as it would bring misery – after all, it would mean that Loki was free. But now, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing really matters anymore.

Sif's richly clothed body lies in the little boat, peacefully, her closed eyes and her folded hands evoking the impression of a woman asleep, her eyelids ready to flutter open.

Yet the image betrays the truth and Darcy thinks of the fine work of the healers who took such good care of her when she had arrived home from battle. Her skin looks flawless, her hair neatly braided with golden flowers, no sign left of her violent death.

Darcy hides in a deep navy gown, her head safely masked beneath the heavy hood of her coal-coloured coat. Just one of many visitors, in a crowd of faithful citizens that have come to send their beloved princess Sif to Valhalla, to accompany her family and her husband on this difficult walk.

Nobody knows why she really has come, that her curiosity and longing have bested her. She lifts the rim of her hood just long enough to take a look at him.

How long has it been since they had last spoken? Months? Years? Ages, anyway, that is what it feels like, the actual span of time does not matter.

She can only glimpse at his profile for a split second before her eyes cloud with tears and her stomach painfully constricts. Luckily, no-one takes notice of her. And why would they? After all, she is just one of them, a grieving citizen to pay her condolences – not a lost lover.

He looks haunted and yet still so very beautiful. His raven hair against his marble skin, his slim body erect with stretched shoulders, a valiant figure of force in these trying time, bearing the ritual in solemn silence.

As the ceremony is finished, he leans down to stroke Sif's shiny hair for one last time and whispers something in her wife's ear, maybe his last words of endearment? Then, the boat is pushed off the sand, travelling to take the warrior to her seat in the white fields of Valhalla.

Soon, the people spread, they talk, gather in small groups, give each other strength. It is time for Darcy to leave, before anyone – before someone – can spot her.

A hand takes hold of her and she stops mid-turn.

A delicate hand, adorned with the heavy ring of the royal family, the arm clothed in her traditional copper and golden colours, now laced with a black cape draped over her shoulders – Frigga.

"Your highness," Darcy whispers and bows her head with modesty.

"Darcy. It has been far too long – and it is good to see you out again." The Allmother states, almost scolding, and her scrutinizing eyes trace the lines of Darcy's face.

She blinks and fear and sympathy mingle in her mind. Frigga, the only parent Loki ever loved and really cared for, the queen of compassion, everlasting patience and motherly wisdom. It was the Allmother herself who helped Jane adjust to her new role as the queen, who guided her through the first trying weeks after the coronation. And now she has to bear another death of a family member.

"I am deeply sorry for your losses – both of them. For your daughter," Darcy's blue eyes dart to the boat that shrinks in the distance, "and for Odin as well. I cannot imagine the pain you had to endure when you lost him."

The fine fingers of the queen squeeze the younger woman's hand tighter and these piercing, yet calm eyes seem to look right through her. "Actually, I think you can." She responds, the sad smile that grazes her features not reaching her eyes and her gaze wanders to the tall lanky figure in black that still waits at the bay.

For a second, Darcy is frozen in shock. No, she cannot know – could she? "Your majesty?"

Frigga doesn't let go, rather keeps their gazes locked again. "It is the heedless quality of love to both build and destroy whatever it may touch. As kind as it is, it is also sadistic."

Darcy wants to lie, to scoff, to play dumb. But she does not find it in her to lie while looking into these soft eyes that remind her so much of her own mother's it hurts. In some twisted way, she and Frigga are both sisters in arms.

With a fast swelling knob in her throat, Darcy nods and quietly lets the tears run down her cheeks.

No words are needed between the two, joined in silent understanding, and Frigga's other hand moves to hold Darcy's trembling other one. "But remember, there is always hope."

With that last cryptic comment, the queen lets go of the younger woman and proceeds to follow the mass of people streaming towards the palace again.

Darcy is left behind, bewildered and alone, her head void of any coherent thought while the tears run in rivulets down her already swollen cheeks. Her eyes locked safely on the ground, she moves, feeling utterly exposed with the searing hot tears leaking from her eyes.

She disappears too fast on her way back home to notice the pair of jade green eyes that watches her from a distance **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment is highly appreciated, especially constructive criticism and your honest opinion!


	7. Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No quote this time but a song recommendation for this chapter: Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlaticism. Just beautiful.

"Another!"

The mug hits the floor with a clear clang and its shattered remains join the other shards of clay and glass that cover the richly tiled floor.

Loki slicks back his coal-black hair and wishes nothing more than to drown in the depths of the wine.

Next to him, as loud and idle-headed as he always is, his brothers laughs, laden with joy, filled with an amount of mead that probably would have fed the whole royal army, in a mood too joyous and cheery to match Loki's twisted mind.

"Brother, will you finish your cup? There are barrels demanding to be emptied!" The tall blonde booms and fetches another bottle from the shelve, regardless of its label or its content, and pours another round for the unequal siblings.

Wordless, Loki switches the empty vessel in front of him with the glass of deep burgundy and raises the cup to his lips. The first sip is enough to confirm his worst assumptions: they have reached the weaker section of liquorishly sweet beverages, heady and sleazy. He can already feel the ensuing headaches that will guide him through the following day.

Thor empties his drink with one swift gulp and smashes the empty cup back on the table.

"What is it with you and your constant sour mood? Will you ever stop your dwelling and allow yourself to enjoy the life we are given?"

It takes all of Loki's limited patience not to roll his eyes at his older brother. "Forgive me if I cannot rejoice in every single moment of my tedious day."

Thor circles the mug in his hands and for one moment, he is silent. Then he raises his deep voice again, now with less enthusiasm.

"Are you unhappy, brother?" he asks, true concern painting his words.

Loki shrugs. "Is it only black and white? Happy or unhappy? Why should I sort myself into any of these categories?" Not that Thor is wrong. But he doesn't see the need to share his present state with anyone, let alone a man like Thor who has everything he ever wanted – and probably is too oblivious to appreciate this rare luck.

The cup still revolves around itself in Thor's paw-like grasp and Loki can feel the unasked questions and the curiosity coming off of him in waves. The silence is so loud it screams.

Out of the sudden, Thor pulls at Loki's shoulder, effectively forcing his younger brother to face him.

"Let us toast." He solemnly demands.

"To what?"

Thor smiles his sunny smile and their two cups meet with a little sound. "To happiness, to lost chances,..."

 _To successfully alienating the only light in one's life,..._ , Loki adds silently.

"... to pride and vanity and, above all," the blonde god's voice halts for a second, "to redemption and forgiveness – something that you should consider, brother." The wink that follows Thor's toast is too obvious for Loki's taste – is there no such thing as privacy anymore?

But he won't humour his brother and add his own commentary. Let him believe whatever he wants. As before, Loki empties his cup in silence.

* * *

Night has already closed in long hours ago and in the far distance, Loki can spot the first glimpses of dawn, a vivid orange lining on the horizon.

 _How poetic_.

A soft knock from the door pulls Loki from his musing. "Come in."

He doesn't need to turn around to recognize the soft shuffling steps and the gentle closing of his bedroom door. Frigga approaches her youngest son with determined yet careful steps and accompanies him at his side by the window.

"I assume by the noises your brother made when he returned to his chambers that you two tended to the winery again?" A knowing smile follows her words and try as he may, Loki needs to smile back.

"We did indeed." He says and Frigga answers with a light chuckle.

"I hope you will forgive that our revelry disturbed your rest." Loki adds.

The Allmother turns her head and her eyes scan her youngest son's profile. "Of course."

For a moment, neither of them speaks, both watching the break of the new day.

"Funny, isn't it?"

Loki raises his brows questioningly. "I don't understand?"

An easy smile grazes the queen's lips. "How an honest apology can right the things we did wrong. And how easily you can find forgiveness in someone else when you can't find it in yourself."

Her expression shifts from mirth to tenderness and her look bores into Loki's skin. To his own annoyance, her words stir the restless whirl of doubts anew. How does she always know?

And, more importantly, could she be right?

"Why should you forgive me?" Loki asks, almost hushes, unsure.

From the corners of his eyes, he sees a wave of sorrow wash over her face, mingled with sympathy.

Then, she smiles again. "Loki, don't forget that I love you. Why should I not?"

His eyes search his mother's and a meaningful silence spreads between them. Then, after a moment, Frigga turns and, with a light touch of her hand to his shoulder, leaves his chamber.

Loki sighs and thinks of the lining at the horizon again.

_Why should she not?_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment is highly appreciated, especially constructive criticism and your honest opinion!


	8. Soft Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter and it includes a quote from Salman Rushdies novel The Moor's Last Sigh, which inspired the title of this entire piece.

_"Ignorantly is how we all fall in love; for it is a kind of fall. Closing our eyes, we leap from that cliff in hope of a soft landing. Nor is it always soft; but still, without that leap nobody comes to life."_   
**Salman Rushdie (The Moor's Last Sigh)**

* * *

 

The sunlight dances on her skin and the first rays of the light of spring warm her arms. Darcy cranes her neck and leans her face in with closed eyes to absorb the warmth. Somehow, everything feels heightened here in this realm – the seasons, the joy and even the pain. Or maybe it is just that time, now that it is meaningless to her, takes a lot longer to heal a wound.

She decides to take a walk and moves to store away the book that has patiently waited to be read. It is not until she puts the book back into the shelf that she notices the figure behind her, leaning in the doorway.

"Enjoying the day?" He asks and cocks his head to one side.

Her heart leaps up and gets stuck in her throat. Words are nowhere to be found, apparently they vanished alongside her voice.

"Enjoying the sun," she manages to produce.

Loki absentmindedly nods. His gaze drifts from the books on the shelf to the curtains by the window that move with the soft wind, over the bunch of dahlias on her night stand. He looks everywhere but at her.

Darcy clears her throat. "Are you here for a reason?" No need to drag this out any longer. It has not been long enough for her heart to bounce back into shape.

Loki shows no reaction to her words, his gaze still lost in her belongings.

Out of the sudden, he turns to face her. His voice sounds oddly cheery. "I wanted you to be the first to know. And, from me, personally."

"Know what?"

"I intend to be wed."

The false smile her lips form hurts like the carve of a knife. "Are you? Well, I guess congratulations are in order. Who is the lucky girl?"

"She is everything I ever wanted." The honesty in his voice is too true to be fake.

It shouldn't still hurt her to hear him talk like this of someone else. Her heart stutters and her stomach drops a few inches. Hopefully he didn't see her cringe. With false indifference and a flick of her hair, Darcy smiles at him. "That is nice to hear. I hope you'll be telling her that."

He swallows deeply. "I just did."

Had she been carrying anything, it would have dropped out of her loose hands.

Darcy bends her head and looks at him. "What?" The word is barely a breath.

But the playfulness of his tone and the easiness in his features is gone. He looks almost as unsure as she feels.

"I have come here for you, and for you only. I have done nothing to deserve another chance, that I know. The last time we spoke you claimed our 'deal' was off and gone forever and since that very moment I have not come back to you – another sign of my pride, my ignorance and foolishness, I presume. I was wrong. And, truth be told, I am a mess without you."

Her hands relax and now hang loosely by her sides. His words fit together and create sentences with a meaning – but still, it feels like he is talking in a foreign language. Is this the same man who toyed with her, broke her heart and threw it at her feet only because it was his to play with in the first place?

"If your wish is still the same as it was all that time ago, I will hereby swear never to bother you ever again. But I stand by the choice I made all that time ago when I promised you that your waiting shall one day end."

Her voice finds its way through her lips again. "This is why you are here?" she whispers.

He swallows, almost like he was afraid and it only adds to her utter shock.

"I want you to be with me, all day, all night preferably too. I want to be the only one to hold you, to have you, I want you to bear mychildren. And, Odin forbid, should they ever make me king, I want you to be my queen. There has been no-one since you, no-one I ever wanted like this." He averts his gaze for a second, only to return to her face. "All I ask for is to call you mine."

For a moment, she is too dumfounded to even react.

Then, she voices the only coherent thought on her mind. "This is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard you say."

And with that, the levee breaks. Tears flow down her cheeks and she can already feel the sobs bubbling upwards her throat as the haze clouds her view.

She knows what will happen even before his fingers move under her chin and his fingertips gently lift her face to meet his.

The kiss is ridiculously sloppy, like it was her first – or even worse. Her sobs break from her throat and she has to pull away.

His face is heavenly close, his forehead in delicate wrinkles, worry and shock painted in his eyes. And yet, behind all that, she sees that he has already found her answer.

Her hands clasp his face, her thumbs resting right atop his prominent cheekbones and she tugs him down. "But yeah, I guess that can be arranged." She whispers against his lips.

He moves faster than a heart can beat and her knees give in as he sweeps her up.

* * *

 _How long has it been?_ She wonders as the mattress dips beneath her weight and a lean body presses down on hers, a set of smooth lips tending to her neck while a pair of familiar hands gently part her legs.

The last time, she was still mortal. It feels like an eternity ago.

She hears the muffled clicking of a belt being unbuckled and fastenings opened and she relishes with eyes closed in the feeling of his hands pulling up the hem of her dress.

Her arms wind around his neck and she pulls him down into an embrace. His hands move from her hips around her waist to hug her tightly to himself and as he drinks up her sight, his hips push, her legs fall wide open and he softly slides inside her.

With every pulsing inch, he hugs her tighter and his lips press onto hers as he plunges in fully. A quiet moan from Darcy breaks their kiss and her legs tighten around his body. She hadn't realised until his lips move to stroke her cheeks but then she feels the coolness of tears still running down her face. He stills for a second, searching her gaze for reassurance.

"Darcy," Loki whispers, almost hushes and his fingers interlace with hers as he brings them up to rest next to her head, tangled in her auburn hair. One more soft kiss to her plush lips and he starts to move.

A rosy hue rises to her cheeks and through a little sob, a smile breaks through her lips.

He presses down on her, his hands clasping hers almost violently and possessively, both of them tangled in their limbs and skin, moulding into one perfect piece.

Another kiss, another gasp and Darcy has to arch her back, desperate to meet his hips and he brushes his lips over her cheeks, her eyes, her lips, caressing every inch of skin.

Loki moves slowly, gently, deliciously tender and smiles into her skin with the growing hitch of her breath. Darcy feels her skin glow under each and every contact. Has he ever made love to her like that before?

It isn't long until s he catches his gaze and with a beautiful numbing shiver, she comes and pulls him with her under and into their release. As they both finally catch their breath again, Darcy smiles and gives him a languid, deep kiss, full of love. Still buried inside her, Loki rests his head atop her heaving breasts, the line of his nose fitting perfectly against her neck while his hot breath ghosts around her collarbone. Her arms tighten around his neck and she traces circles on the soft spot beneath his ears, knowing that this is one of his sensitive spots. Loki responds with a content hum. Some things never change.

"I almost forgot how cuddly you are." Darcy chuckles and Loki playfully nudges her breast with the tip of his nose and a low chuckle sounds in his throat.

Her arms tighten around his shoulders. "Nice speech by the way. Cheesy, but nice."

She feels his lips pull into a smirk against the soft skin between her breasts. "I know how you love grand gestures."

"Will you promise me something?"

Her lover raises his head again and rests his chin in between her breasts as he questioningly looks at her.

Darcy licks her lips and tries to find the right words. "If this is supposed to work, you have to stop hating me."

His brows furrow angrily but she shushes him before he can complain and places her fingertips on his lips. "I'm serious. You need to stop hating me for loving you. You don't want me to love you but you also don't want me to leave you. And that seriously needs to stop. Just get over it, okay?" Her fingers wander from his lips to hold his cheeks.

He can barely keep his eyes from rolling and a smile grazes Darcy's lips.

Loki lowers his head again and a growl vibrates in the back of his throat. "You are insufferable." His annoyed tone is balm to her ears.

"I'll just take that as a 'yes'." She smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment, tell me whether you enjoyed the ride or not, and most importantly, why so!  
> Thank you for reading, reviewing, leaving kudos, etc!


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